


Just a Car

by Morgane (smilla840)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, How Phil got Lola, M/M, SHIELD Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil didn’t even want the car in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Car

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the Agents of SHIELD trailer. Written because that wasn’t the kind of car I expected Phil to drive, so of course it had to be Tony’s fault.
> 
> Cross-posted at my lj.

Stark is the one who shoves the keys in his hand. 

“Here,” he says. “Glad you’re not dead, and all that. Don’t do it again, it’s the only present you’re getting.”

He’s trying for flippant but the tight lines around his eyes tell a different story, and so does the way he just turns on his heel and leaves without waiting for Phil’s reaction.

Phil watches him hurry off quizzically, calling out a belated – and somewhat bewildered – “Thanks” after him, though he isn’t sure what he’s thanking him for yet. This isn’t what he expected when Pepper called the night before and asked him to drop by Stark Tower on his way to work.

“What just happened?” he asks Pepper, and she smiles, eyes a little soft.

“He means the car.” She gestures towards a red monstrosity parked not far away. “I had to talk him down from buying you a plane.” 

Phil tries not to shudder at the thought. “Thank you,” he says with feeling. Dear God, what would he have done with a plane?

What is he going to do with _this_?

“Go on, give it a try,” she says with a little smirk. “The insurance papers are in the glove compartment.”

Right.

Phil steels himself and looks at the car again.

It’s still bright red.

Phil is more than a little horrified.

\---

People stare. They turn around when he drives past them, gawk when he stops at red lights, point when he accelerates – hell, a few tourists even take pictures. 

Phil despairs at the loss of his perfectly comfortable anonymity.

When he gets into SHIELD’s parking garage, people stare some more, but at least he can order them around.

“Nobody touches the car,” he warns, because who knows how much the thing cost or what kind of upgrades Stark installed. The last thing he needs is someone inadvertently blowing up the place.

Also, it’s very clean and he doesn’t want finger marks all over it.

Because it’s red _and_ shiny.

\---

Since Phil is stuck at his desk ‘til Medical clears him – well, he’s supposed to be at home but that was never going to happen, not once he started feeling better – he tends to spend a lot of time bored out of his mind. After all, there are only so many distractions one can find in paperwork, and Clint is heading an op in some classified part of Asia. Not that it’s Clint’s job to keep him entertained, of course. The man is just very good at it.

Still, the day he gets the car is anything but dull. A lot of people drop by his office. Mostly they want to talk about the car.

At least it’s good for something.

“You know, if you really don’t want it I can take it off your hands,” Jasper offers, munching on a donut, and Phil considers it for a split second – it _is_ red – before shaking his head. If he gets rid of it Stark will try very hard to pretend it doesn’t matter to him one way or another, and he’ll fail miserably. It’ll embarrass them both, really.

“Sorry, it was a gift.”

“Can I take her out for a spin, at least?” Jasper asks hopefully, pushing the donuts in Phil’s direction as if that will improve his chances. Phil isn’t sure why – they’re _his_ donuts – and he feels entirely justified in shooting the man an unimpressed look.

“You do remember I was with you in Madrid, right?”

“I was doing evasive manoeuvres,” Jasper mutters, eyeing the donuts as if he’s contemplating taking them hostage until Phil agrees, and Phil wisely rescues them before things escalate.

What is it about that car anyway?

\---

Phil takes it home late that evening – he fell asleep at his desk and hopes no one will tell Clint. Traffic is light, or as light as it ever gets in New York City, and the car purrs under him as he shifts gears and drives a little faster.

He’s got to admit, it’s kind of nice.

The apartment he and Clint bought last year came with a parking space they’ve never used – who needs a car in the city, right? –, and Phil is glad he doesn’t have to drive around looking for a space. He gets out of the car and finally allows himself to look it over with a critical eye.

Alright, it’s gorgeous.

It’s also highly impractical.

Maybe a plane would have been better after all.

\---

Phil drives into work the next day and has R&D take a look at the car – nothing invasive, just a couple of scans to make sure Stark hasn’t made any undue modifications. Their report comes back clean, but Phil can see he’s given them ideas – bad, _bad_ ideas. Really, if they have enough spare time to watch that many James Bond movies, something needs to be done. He declines their offer, because while he might agree that a couple of rockets never hurt, he doesn’t want them anywhere near the car when they have that look in their eyes. That’s just common sense.

That evening Natasha is lurking around the parking garage conspicuously when he’s leaving and she follows him to his car.

“Not a word,” he growls, and so she laughs at him instead.

“Clint is going to love it,” she says, and Phil finds himself smiling like the sap he is when it comes to his husband.

He knows.

\---

Over the following days Phil gets into the habit of driving to and from work. It’s only logical to use the car – Stark is probably making sure he is through some sort of illegal surveillance, and who knows what he’ll think of next if he believes Phil doesn’t like it. 

That thought doesn’t stop him from cursing the traffic like everybody else, but there’s something quaintly normal about getting into his car at the end of the day, putting the job out of his mind to focus on the wheel instead. Phil finds himself taking the long way home sometimes, and tells himself it’s to be expected. Clint isn’t there to provide incentives to get home early and the apartment is too empty without him. 

Only a few more days, he reminds himself, and then Clint will be home.

\---

On Sunday Phil gives in to a whim and gets into his car and onto the freeway, heading out of town for an impromptu road trip.

Away from the start-stop traffic of the city, the car is slick and responsive and _fast_ , very fast – not that Phil expected any different from Stark. It’s a little exhilarating. He doesn’t get to do much driving outside of work – and _that_ is rarely a pleasant experience – but he finds it almost relaxing now, watching fields go by in the corner of his eye with the warmth of the sun on his face. 

By the time he gets home, his hair is a mess and Phil can’t wait to do it again with Clint.

Still, he admonishes himself as he extricates himself from the driver seat, he isn’t going to become one of those people obsessed with their car. It’s a nice car, yes, but it _is_ just a car.

He still goes to get a cloth to wipe it down.

Back roads are dirty.

\---

The next day Fury shows up just as he’s pulling in. Phil isn’t impressed.

“No,” he tells him before he can open his mouth and Fury narrows his eye at him.

“Did that car come with psychic powers you failed to report? There is no way you knew what I was going to say.”

“You want to use the car for the Baltimore undercover op.” Phil has to admit it’d be perfect for it. However: “Regulation 412-c states an agent’s personal vehicle can’t be used in the field. This _is_ my personal vehicle.”

Nothing he can do about _that_.

Fury looks oddly disappointed.

\---

Clint comes home three days later, and Phil gets the automated email saying his team’s transport has landed. He won’t get to see him for a few more hours, and that’s always the hardest part – not when one of them is in the field but when they’ve just come back, so close and yet out of sight, locked away in debriefings and Medical.

Staring at his office’s door won’t make it open faster, and so Phil goes to look for some coffee around the middle of the afternoon. When he gets back, Clint is sprawled on his couch, hair still wet from his shower and a shade darker than usual. He looks tired, but he smiles when he sees Phil, and as usual the sight does all sorts of things to his heart.

“Hi,” he says, and Phil can’t not kiss him, not when he is right there and he’s had to go without for close to a month.

Clint smiles into the kiss and Phil pulls back to watch the way his eyes crinkle with happiness. This right there is one of his favourite Clint, and the two of them stare at one another like besotted teenagers – Natasha’s words, not theirs.

A yawn from Clint breaks the moment, and they chuckle.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks, just to make sure, and Clint nods.

“Yeah, it went without a hitch. I’m just tired.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

It’s not like he’s even supposed to be here in the first place.

They make their way down, and Clint’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees the car.

“Should I be worried about you trading me in for a younger model?” he says with a teasing smile, and just for that Phil has to kiss him again. 

As if.

“What do you think?” he asks, feeling oddly shy as Clint looks it over.

“Not bad. Not bad at all. Stark, right?”

“Of course. It’s a bit of a pain, but what can you do, right?”

Clint laughs, head thrown back, and gets into the passenger seat.

Phil drives them home and people stare even more than usual, but this time he feels a little thrill from it. He’s only human, after all.

\---

“Admit it, you love her,” Clint says later from where he’s draped over Phil’s chest.

“I don’t. It’s just a car.”

“Liar. Come on, I won’t tell Stark.”

Phil sighs. He knows when he’s beaten. “Fine. She’s great.”

“She needs a name.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

A few moments of silence as they both ponder it, and then:

“What about Dolores?” Clint asks softly, and Phil finds it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

Dolores. After his mom, who loved Clint almost as much as he does in the few years she got to know him.

It seems oddly fitting.

“Lola,” he says decisively after clearing his throat, because he remembers his dad calling her that sometimes and how it always made her smile.

Clint lifts his head long enough to drop a quick kiss on his neck before settling back against him, and Phil closes his eyes.

Lola it is.


End file.
